


What changes, and what reminds

by Rogercat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Canon Het Relationship, Canonical Character Death, Distrust, Elf Culture & Customs, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Elves, Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Secrets, Father-Daughter Relationship, Female Warrior, First Age, Middle Earth, Nargothrond, Scars, Serious Injuries, The Noldor, War, Warrior Princess, betrothal, house of finarfin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 22:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15895755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: As the current heir to Nargothrond, Finduilas is facing a major issue in her life when both her betrothed Gwindor returns after several years in enslavement, and with him a mysterious mortal she does not really trust...





	What changes, and what reminds

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: I am used to the Silmarillion version where Orodreth is Finrod's brother and thus making Finduilas his niece, so that is what their family tree is going to look like here in this story. As such, Finduilas is a only child, and Gil-galad is the son of Fingon rather than her little brother. 
> 
> The inspiration for this story comes from a image of Turin, Gwindor and Finduilas in Nargothrond, by the artist Isilloth-Mane on DevianArt
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/isilloth-mane/art/Gwindor-Turin-and-Finduilas-762438356

Gwindor was honestly not surprised by how exhausted he was. He both looked and felt like a living dead, the lack of food not helping him, even if the snow could be used as drinking water. And while Túrin did not have a body slowly broken down by slavery in Angband, the Man did not look much better for now. Thankfully, the surroundings began to feel more and more familiar for Gwindor's tired mind, even with the snow being on the ground, with no leaves on the trees.   

 

“ _Nargothrond...and...Findulias…!_ ”

 

The two things that had kept him alive, in hope for a escape one day, back to his home and sweetheart. Perhaps it was selfish, but what was life without hope? Even on the darkest days in despair, the memory of her smile had been what kept Gwindor alive for another day. Fourteen long years, until that he one day had spotted a chance to freedom, and took it. Gwindor preferred to die as a free Elf, not in slavery, if that was to be his sad fate.

 

“Horses?”

 

Indeed it was. A group of horses, eight riders riding ahead of and after a middle rider, dressed in steel armour as if being ready for a possible attack by enemies. Túrin, who may have learned from Beleg that Thingol had given him a pardon if he wished to return to Doriath, first thought that those riders actually been sent out to find him since surely it have to a lot of time since the last time Beleg had been in contact with his king before death.

 

“Ow! Stop pulling me!” Gwindor hissed in pain as Túrin hid them both behind a oak tree. Gwindor knew from painful experience that he soon would have large bruises on his arm, because he was so thin and having very little muscles nowadays. Having only hand made it also more difficult to catch himself if he fell. Their movements had caught attention, making the nine riders surround the tree with their spears lifted, ready to attack if needed.

 

“Who are you? What do you want!” the leader spoke behind a veil that covered the whole face below the green eyes. Only the long golden hair, caught up in a tight braid under the helmet, hinted the middle rider to possibly be a female since male Elves had their hair a bit shorter. And when Gwindor caught sight of the eyes just for a moment…

 

Finduilas, in all her glory as the current heiress to Nargothrond.

 

Then everything became too much and it blacked for his eyes as Gwindor fainted from fatigue.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

At first, the next following part of his memory is gaps of darkness, occasionally interrupted by short periods where he is awake for only a short time. Most of the time it is the healers, yet other times it is Findulias that cares for him and even Lord Orodreth himself comes a few times to help his daughter, being a well-known botanist in the lore of medicinal herbs despite not being a healer himself.

 

“I find it a pleasant view to see you care so for Gwindor, even before you realized that it indeed was he who have returned.”

 

“It was impossible to mistake his eyes, I could see that he knew who I was. Even if he is so changed…” Finduilas responded as she used a wet rag to wash Gwindor's feverish face. His body, and the loss of his hand, told them all enough of what he had suffered in Angband, and yet there was a unspoken fear in the air:

 

Had Morgoth only set him free to act as a spy, or simply cause distrust in Nargothrond against each other?

 

They would not know until that Gwindor could be awake for longer periods, and tell them in his own words, for he had been known as a honest person all his life who felt a huge amount of regret the few times he lied.

 

“How are things going with the human we put under house arrest for the time being?” Orodreth asked a servant. He had not liked it, but since they did not know who the Man was, it had felt like a safe action until that he had proved himself to not be the one to hurt Gwindor.

 

“It is well with him, through he is still brooding in displeasure over the house arrest in the chambers he got, my King.”

 

Finduilas saw the tiny twitch of discomfort, her poor father had never liked to be the middle of attention unless it was something he needed to speak about, gladly leaving it to his four siblings while he stayed in the background. Being the King of Nargothrond was not a role he enjoyed at all. Especially as it has cost him his beloved eldest brother Finrod, last of her uncles to be alive.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Noticing that Gwindor was a little awake, Finduilas took the chance to give him a little bit of herbal tea to drink.

 

“Fin…”    

 

“Sch. Rest, Gwindor. I will be sad if you do not sleep well,” she whispered in a gentle tone, even kissing him carefully on the forehead. At first there was a look of honest disbelief in his eyes, then a thin smile of joy on his lips before he fell back into sleep. Finduilas herself hoped that it would help him sleep peacefully without any nightmares.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

As her father's daughter and the most likely heir to Nargothrond ever since it had become clear that her deceased uncle Angrod and his wife Eldalótë had not planned to have children as long as Morgoth were still a threat to the free people of Middle-Earth, Finduilas had grown used to have a strong position and were not afraid of helping with the ruling of Nargothrond.

 

“Any news about Doriath and such?”

 

Like many others, Finduilas was not impressed by the rumour that the Valar had allowed Luthien and Beren return to life, and that Finrod did not. If anything, this had caused a massive feeling of the Valar showing favoritism towards two people who had been the cause of political trouble between Doriath and Nargothrond.

 

“No, princess. King Thingol only sends a request to...eh, how to say it….” the servant started, only for her to interrupt:

 

“Whatever his request is, our answer will be and remain **_no_ ** whatever he want us to do. If he think that his daughter and her mortal lover can escape punishment for indirectly causing the death of my uncle, Thingol seriously need a good slap with a book upon his thick skull to wake up to reality and see what damage he caused by that _stupid idea for a bride price!_ ”

 

“Yes, even my father and uncle found that to be one of the craziest ideas for getting rid of a suitor to someone's daughter they ever had heard, and yes, not even my famed grandfather would have asked something like that in his most unstable moments,” Celebrimbor commented out aloud as he passed by, having just finished a new set of battle daggers for Finduilas. Normally he kept to himself in knowing that people did not fully trust him, but Orodreth and his family refused to throw him out of Nargothrond simply for his lineage.

 

“Proves just how much Thingol is out of contact with the Noldor outside formal relationships,” Finduilas snorted in displeasure. No one dared to disagree with her about it.

 

As part of her daily work as the possible leader of Nargothrond, Finduilas made a point of training with weapons. While she was unlikely to ever be as a powerful warrior as her male relatives in terms of body strength, the Elven princess still tried her best to find a way to cover up her weak spots in battle.

 

Sensing someone to watch her, Finduilas looked swiftly over one shoulder with her eye. There, half-hidden in the shadows and still covered in the thick blanket he needed for warmth, was Gwindor. His eyes was half-closed, as it always had been the rare times as he had sleep-walked in his youth. Had his memories guided him here?

 

“You should be resting in bed so you can regain your strength soon enough, beloved,” she whispered softly, carefully placing her sword on the floor so the sound would not alarm Gwindor in his sleep and then walked up to him. Once close enough, she gave him a gentle hug. Gwindor relaxed in the hug, breathing softly against her neck. Carrying him back to his sickbed on her back was no easy task despite his skinny body, especially as Gwindor was a adult Elf rather than a Elfling, but Finduilas refused to give up. For her, it was a small victory in that Gwindor did not wake up as she struggled to get him back into bed and tucked him into a warm nest of blankets and pillows, he did not need to feel embarrassed over something like this.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

After that he had needed nearly a year of recovering and the summer of year 491 of the Sun arrived, Finduilas ensured to spend time with Gwindor in the warmest spots of the city gardens. His health had improved, but there was nothing that the healers could do about his appearance, forever marred by the hardships he had suffered. Yet Finduilas did her best to ignore that he now looked like the aged among mortal men.        

 

“So Túrin have chosen to be part of the soldiers?”

 

Gwindor had revealed the Man's true name to Finduilas, who was not too comfortable about some of the deeds Túrin had done before coming to her home. She especially found it annoying that he seemed to have a ability to charm various ladies at court, and Orodreth had mentioned a worry about that the tale of Luthien and Beren may inspire something that could be awkward to explain for those who found their tale of the romantic kind.  

 

“Yes. We could not exactly keep him in house arrest anymore, and he wanted to prove himself useful.”

 

And they could not exactly drive him away from Nargothrond without a legal excuse.   

 

Before he could say something Gwindor suddenly had a violent coughing fit, which made his whole body shaking. Finduilas was quick to support him, seeing how he gasped for breath was heartbreaking. Laboring in the underground mines among ash and dust had damaged his lungs, and it was not uncommon for him to have a coughing fit even if he had not done anything all day.

 

“Sorry for the coughing. I wish that it could stop so I can breathe easier without waking up in the middle of the night.”

 

A little of the water from the drinking fountain seemed to help a bit.

 

“I plan to challenge Túrin to a duel. A secret one, just to not draw too much attention that could be viewed in the wrong way. If something happens that makes me the leader for Nargothrond, even for a short time while Father remain alive, I am not too willing to have him stay here. I can sense something dark around him...a darkness that could doom us if he remains here for too long. If we could find a mortal woman for him and send him away after a wedding…” Finduilas informed in a somewhat uncertain voice. Her distrust about Túrin and his slowly growing power was well known among those who were against a Man being given so much influence, since it was not of snobbish disapproval but rather fear that it would not end well in the longer run.

 

“I did not know that you plays matchmaker as well,” Gwindor attempted to joke, just to remove the tension in the air and Finduilas laughed heartily before saying that no, she had never tried to be a matchmaker earlier. Besides, she doubted that the results would be good, as Finduilas was not that great at catching up the right chemistry between possible couples.

 

Now when Túrin learnt from Finduilas of what had passed, he was wrathful, and he said to Gwindor: “In love I hold you for your rescue and sake-keeping. But now you have done ill to me, friend, to betray my right name, and call my doom upon me, from which I would lie hid.”

But Gwindor answered: “The doom lies in yourself, not in your name.”

It seemed like Túrin did not have a good response for that, but his eyes betrayed the wrath that still held him.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

As the day of the duel came, Gwindor did want to be a witness to it. Besides, if someone of the two duelists got hurt, it could be needed with some first aid before taking the injured person to a healer.

 

“I am giving you one last chance to call this off. A maid should not carry a sword,” Túrin spoke, in a more arrogant manner than he likely planned, given the cold glare Finduilas gave him in return.

 

“And you need to start get into your head that we females can be warriors as well.”

 

Finduilas was willing to accept becoming a wife and mother, but Eru help anyone who were foolish enough to claim that only males could be soldiers. Once the duel started, Finduilas did indeed show that she was not a maiden that would run screaming from danger.

 

“Badly chosen comment about female warriors, Túrin, you are gonna be beaten up for that,” Gwindor commented aloud in slight boredom, as the two warriors began to be more serious in the inner room. Or rather, Túrin was forced to defend himself better against Finduilas, who took great use of her longer battle training due to her immortality and refused to play around with him.

 

Gwindor himself tried to push down the sounds of sword against sword, as it threatened to trigger up memories he did not want to think of now. He knew that his position at the court in Nargothrond only was a shadow of what it once had been. Both Túrin and himself held positions in the council of Orodreth, yet the Man was more favored because he had far more influence and insisted on building a bridge over the river Narog, something Gwindor had tried to protest even now as it was nearly finished. Sure, Finduilas still loved him, but Gwindor was not blind for how her eyes sometimes fell on other lords. In all fairness, he had changed so much in both body and spirit, so could she really be blamed of being emotionally unfaithful? They were still betrothed, as far as they both knew, but the spark once between them had gone lost over the years passed as he had been a slave.   

 

As Finduilas came out from the inner room, there was a cold fury in her eyes that told Gwindor enough. A draw, both fighters risking to be on the losing half. Yet for her it was a unspoken defeat no the less. A challenge to her own authority as the possible Queen of Nargothrond. Something that her pride would not forget. If Túrin, grown spoiled with royal protection as he had been by Thingol over ten years of his life, thought himself able to take a similar place at another royal Elven court, he was so very wrong.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

For a time after the duel, Túrin did not notice any remarkable differences in his life here in Nargrothrond. He had a strong political position, second only to the King and Princess nowadays, as the Queen consort preferred to stay out of world of politics, choosing to oversee the daily life of the underground Elven city instead. King Orodreth was a well-meaning Elf Lord, but he could be convinced with some difficulty to change his mind.

 

“My King, there is two messengers, named Gelmir and Arminas, sent here from Lord Cirdan. They says to have words from Ulmo, the Lord of Waters himself.”

 

This caused pretty the mumble around the gathered counselors, until that Orodreth requested some quiet so he could hear the message.

 

“ _The Evil of the North has defiled the springs of Sirion, and my power withdraws from the fingers of the flowing waters, followed by…defiled the Eithel Ivrin …_ ”

 

Orodreth had gone pale in his face as the deeper meaning sunk in, it was impossible to miss. Yet Túrin scorned the message from Ulmo, and ordered the two messenger Elves to leave the throne room.

 

“Father! If what Ulmo says is true, then we need to return to keep Nargothrond hidden! That damned bridge is revealing us for the Enemy if he comes here! We need to destroy it!” Finduilas declared in a loud voice, dragging attention to where she had raised from her seat.

 

“After all the work to build it?! No way, elleth!” Túrin snapped back, also raising from his seat. Before anyone could protest, a heated stream of insults and angry words was sent between the two, neither one wanting to be defeated.

 

“...watch your words, or I will have you thrown out from this city in exile with my own hands!”

 

“And that shall come from a woman who stays local to a cripple!”

 

That was the last straw. Finduilas walked over and slapped Túrin hard on both sides of his face as Orodreth raised his voice to be heard over their argument:

 

“ _GET OUT, BOTH OF YOU!!_ Finduilas, get rid of your anger with some weapon training. Túrin, apologize to my daughter right now, and the same to Gwindor! I will not accept such disrespect to my daughter or her betrothed, for I am very proud of Finduilas in the manner that is _better a son who is your daughter than no son at all!_ ”  

 

Gwindor himself was in a corner, but there was no doubt that being called a cripple had hit hard and painfully. Without a word, he followed after the furious Finduilas as quickly as he could when she stormed out, leaving Túrin with a rather awkward position right now. This was a serious backfire, everything knew it.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

Just as she must have promised herself after the humiliation at that meeting, Gwindor soon heard whispers of various manners where Túrin ended up humiliating himself in public, either because of his arrogance or pride that had gotten a serious hit by Finduilas trying to make use of her position as Orodreth's heiress to turn his words against himself in front of the King. It was not enough to lessen his power among the rest of Orodreth’s council or to exile him from Nargothrond, but now people started to try and keep their distance around him, in fear of suffering the Princess' unspoken disappointment. Now when Túrin had proven himself to not be a man of honor like his distant kinsman Beren, parents began to pull their children away from him. The daughters because whispers spoke of that he was not like Beren in personality and thus would doom any Elf-maid that fell in love with him, the sons because more than one young Elf had been accidentally hurt by Túrin during sword training because he had suddenly lost his temper in frustration. Small victory perhaps, but a sweet one anyway.

 

And yet…

 

_And yet…!_

 

“You...wish to release me from our betrothal?” she whispered in a low voice, barely heard because of the shock she currently was in. Gwindor nodded without saying anything at first, wanting Finduilas to go though the first shock before something else happened.

 

“….why?” she finally managed to get out after a long silence, tears in her eyes threatening to start falling.

 

“...I can not longer give you the happiness or family you deserves….I…. I...am...damaged in the possibility to... _sire children._..” he confessed in a whisper, trying hard to not start crying himself. By the stars, those was the most painful words of despair he ever had spoken in his whole life. And he hated himself for breaking Finduilas' heart like this.

 

Finduilas could see the pain in his eyes, the self-hate over what he was doing. It was not pity he wanted from her, or later regrets over marrying him when he were no longer as she remembered him.  

 

“I am sorry….I am sorry…”

 

Despite the tears that now fell from his own eyes as well, Gwindor felt more sorry for Finduilas than himself. They had loved each other with a very deep passionate love, and knowing that their love would most likely never give birth to a child between them, was what hurt the most.

 

Suddenly, Finduilas threw herself towards him, her arms catching him in a unexpected hug. Not hard enough to hurt Gwindor, but he could feel her refusal to let go of him.

 

“It is your remaining presence that prevent the darkness of Túrin to catch me! I c-can feel it...its claws trying to capture me... if you a-are not around to remind me of what we once shared…”

 

By the Valar, this was even worse than what Gwindor ever could have believed, in how Túrin seemed to affect the unmarried ladies at court. He had never seen Finduilas, normally so self-confident, acting like this. Furthermore, she was almost never scared in a way that revealed her fear because she already had tried to keep herself together for the sake of others.  

 

“I am afraid of falling in love with him! Even as a mortal, he is nearly everything you were before you were captured and enslaved for fourteen years! I am scared that he will end replacing you in my heart, Gwindor!”  

 

Finduilas truly was terrified. She had heard of how Morgoth could lay curses in his enemies, and now had little doubt that it was a such curse on Túrin, a curse that would doom anyone around him in the long run.

 

“He can not stay here in Nargothrond anymore! It have become too dangerous for him to remain…!”

 

Finduilas did not know how to find fitting words for the emotional storm inside her. But one thing was clear in her mind: Túrin would indeed bring doom over Nargothrond, and if he was not stopped quickly, they could all lose their lives when Angband attacked.   

 

“ _Finduilas…!!_ ”

 

Gwindor could not say anything to comfort her, yet she heard in his pained voice his fear for losing her again despite that he was willing to let her go free from their betrothal. He feared that she would suffer a similar fate as himself if she was captured, enslavement in Angband and possibly even worse. No, if Gwindor could prevent that fate for his beloved Princess, then he was willing to give up his own life for her so she could be free.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X

 

Then one day Orodreth did after a very long refusing, finally give in to Túrin urging the King to venture out and fight the forces of Morgoth instead of keeping to the their old method of guerilla war, ambushing but never assaulting the forces of Morgoth directly. Why Túrin seemed to think open war was more glorious than smaller attacks that would not risk too many lives, no one dared to guess but several of Finduilas' close allies spoke of him wanting to regain his honor, proving that he was still worthy of his position. And she was not the only one to worry about this change.

 

That following night, Gwindor suddenly woke up by a unfamiliar sound in his bedchamber. Someone was standing in the door, holding a candle for light.

 

“Finduilas?” he asked in sleepy surprise, then had his surprise grow even bigger at seeing her dressed in only her sleeping gown under the robe she had been wearing, now sliding it off the shoulders.

 

“Last time you went out in battle, I lost you for fourteen long years. _This time, I will not stand merely at a betrothal._ ”

 

Realizing what she meant, Gwindor tried to not start crying. If things had gone the right way, they should have been married in front of all of Nargothrond, enjoying a well-made banquet to celebrate one of the most joyful events Elves could have in their lives.

 

“Finduilas...I... _I want you_...but..I do not...know if I am able...to...pre…”

 

He did not get to finish talking, because of the kiss Finduilas placed on his lips, her own body on top of his with no blanket to keep separate.

 

It was only at the crack of dawn outside, as Finduilas returned back to her own bedchamber in another part of Nargothrond. Had anyone seen her eyes in that moment, they would have noticed that her eyes had changed, a different light in them.

 

~X~X~X~X~X~X  

 

No one said it when Orodreth led out his troops towards Tumhalad, but there was more than one person who saw the long glace cast between Finduilas and Gwindor. The princess had tried into the very last minutes to make her father allow Gwindor to remain in Nargothrond instead of coming along, giving a very true motive that the sounds of battle would only trigger up bad memories of the past and risk him to possibly suffer a nervous breakdown right when he needed to defend himself. But Orodreth refused, flat out saying that his daughter was acting unreasonable, something she should not do when he wished to entrust the defense of Nargothrond to her until his return.

 

“Your mother have never been a warrior, so you are the only one left to perform this task, my daughter. If it is that you fear for Gwindor, I will ensure that my best warriors keep him safe for you.”

 

Finduilas was able to read people very well, seeing what her father meant; he was proud over that she remained loyal in heart and soul to her fiancé despite everything that had happened to him, rather than choosing another. Or was he able to guess what she had done not too many nights ago with Gwindor in secret? That she was willing to accept a barren husband who would be unable to give the family tree new fruits in the shape of a new generation?    

 

“Finduilas. We can not change the past, but we can hopefully change the future. Your mother and I are still able to have one more child, you do not need to take on all the duties of a heir because you currently is our only child. A sibling could have the task of continue the family line once he or she comes of age. Do not grieve over that Gwindor is unfruitful.”

 

So he knew who that would be the cause of no children born in the marriage. Of course, Gwindor would not want her to be the one at fault. He had always been like that, a natural kindness that had drawn her to him at first.    

 

“Yes, Father.”

 

No, if Finduilas was to choose things herself, she would remain faithful to Gwindor no matter what charms Túrin tried on her now. She could impossibly marry another and call that person her husband now, not after that night. Túrin may be high in favor with her father right now, but in the longer run, he was a mortal who would die eventually. Gwindor was a fellow Elf, broken and changed as he was, and they would meet in the Halls of Mandos if they died while the fate of Men was unknown. Only a naive fool would try anything similar to the tale of Beren and Luthien if they did not know how actual love worked between a couple, they may be famous for their love but not all mortals was like Beren. And not all Elf maids was like Luthien. With how Túrin acted, many of Finduilas' fellow Elf maidens had been discouraged from any deeper feelings once the whispers of a curse over him was spread.

 

Among the soldiers, Gwindor raised his remaining hand to his scarred lips, making a quick moment as if kissing her hand goodbye. But in reality, he kissed the small braid made from Finduilas' golden hair, acting like a secret wedding ring. A quiet asking for the blessing of his royal wife, and a promise to return this time.

 

“ _I will not leave you alone this time, my beloved,_ ” his lips worded soundlessly for Finduilas to hear in her mind thanks to the marriage bond they shared now.  

 

If they were blessed and Nargothrond won a victory, Finduilas would insist on marrying Gwindor for real this autumn in all the glory that they would have together. No secret wedding vows or bedding that made them a couple without witnesses, like how Elves had bounded back in the beginning without any ceremonies. And Túrin would never gain the chance of becoming royalty through marriage even if he tried to woo her, not with Finduilas being a only child for the moment and Túrin would be dead long before any younger yet-unbegotten-sibling of hers would enter adulthood, ready for marriage. With the Man gone from their lives thanks to the natural flow of time, perhaps their marriage would not be haunted by any cursed shadows anymore.     

 

Hope was scary, but it could also give light in a bitter reality.


End file.
